


Ain't No Grave

by onearmedmechanic



Category: Borderlands (Video Games)
Genre: Borderlands Revers Big Bang, Cowboys, Guns, I couldn't resist, M/M, Period-Typical Homophobia, Secret Relationship, Strong Language, Western AU, lost of western tropes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-25
Updated: 2018-03-25
Packaged: 2019-04-08 00:18:34
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,487
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14092872
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/onearmedmechanic/pseuds/onearmedmechanic
Summary: "Rhys smiled, his teeth glinting in the light of the rising moon. It was full tonight, the perfect witness of a love affair between a grizzled sheriff, just a gunfight and a glass of whiskey away from a shallow grave, and a young man who's seen too much heartbreak in his time to stomach one more."My part of the Borderlands Reverse Big Bang Challenge, done with Roach!http://gayroach.tumblr.com/This was so much fun and Go check out their art!





	Ain't No Grave

It was nearing dusk, the day's work was coming to an end and like many of the town’s citizens, the sheriff was making his way to the bar for a bit of well-earned drinking after a day out in the sun. As the sun dipped below the mountains, it painted the sky in pinks and oranges, casting the dusty desert landscape in a pretty light. Jack looked out at his town with a sense of pride sitting heavy in his chest.

The small town of Pandora, Wyoming only had one real bar, and on a good day, you could find more people there than you would sit at church on a Sunday. To say it was the hotspot in town was a massive understatement in Jack’s opinion. The saloon doors swung out, making room for him as his worn boots creaked over the wooden floors, pounded smooth over time by a thousand sets of boots.

Moxxi was sitting at a table with a couple of high rolling businessmen who were gambling at a table in the corner. Pandora wasn’t by any means a tourist destination but every once and a while they got a few travelers who were making their way out west.

Moxxi had some help from some of the locals looking for work outside of the mine - which there wasn’t much of. There was Janey Springs, a young woman with blonde hair and a whole mess of scars she earned from a nasty explosion in the mine a few years back. She was serving beers to a table of miners. Sasha also worked part-time at the saloon, picking up some of the slack left behind when her fiance August was working in the silver mine.

But the bartender that caught his eye - the one that always caught his eye - was Rhys. He was standing behind the bar today, cleaning a neat row of glasses, the glass was clasped in the delicate fingers of his false hand as he polished the tankard until it gleamed in the light of the setting sun.

Rhys looked up at the sound of the saloon doors, his one good eye landing on the sheriff; it was a pretty brown color, the color of oak. His hair was the color of whiskey, and it was usually slicked back in a graceful cascade down his neck.  A tiny smile curled on his mouth, and he laughed softly.

“Lookin’ a bit rough their sheriff, need somethin’?” Rhys smirked. He knew why the sheriff was there, even if everyone else thought he was just here for a drink.

“Yeah,” Jack grunted as he sat down at the bar. “I'm gonna order my _usual_ , Rhysie.”

Rhys smiled, sliding a glass of oak barrel whiskey across the bar and into Jack’s waiting hand.

The glass of whiskey was nice. Jack knocked half of it back in one go. A smile on his lips.

The same smile that Rhys kissed right off of his face not ten minutes later, pressed up against the brick wall of an alleyway.

“We have got to stop doing this out in the open.” Rhys murmured as Jack broke off to kiss down his neck.

“Relax, pumpkin. No one has a damn idea. And even if they did, I'm the sheriff. No one is going to fuck with that.” Jack countered with a grin.

Rhys mirrored his smile and his hands gripped Jack’s gun belt, pulling the older man closer. “I’m the only one who gets to fuck the sheriff.” Rhys smiled, his teeth glinting in the light of the rising moon.

It was full tonight, the perfect witness of a love affair between a grizzled sheriff, just a gunfight and a glass of whiskey away from a shallow grave, and a young man who's seen too much heartbreak in his time to stomach one more.

It was a match made in secret, two broken pieces fitting together and telling themselves that they’re whole.

Jack laid Rhys out that night, the young man stripped nude as if he existed only for Jack’s eyes. He was so pretty. Pale and vulnerable. Ever since the passing of his wife, Jack never thought he would feel this way about anything in this world.

But as Rhys sighed like the wind that blew across the desert, sweet and refreshing, Jack couldn’t help himself. He just had to lean in and kiss those pretty lips, claiming them as if no one else in this world would ever be able to appreciate the way he moved, like the bow of a fiddle as it played across the strings.

And when they laid back that night, Rhys curled like a kitten on Jack’s chest as he took a lazy drag off a cigar, the smoke hovering around the pair like a fog that could hide their sin from the cruel eyes of the world.

~~~~~

The Sheriff’s cabin was a humble thing, nestled in the mountains. Jack had built it himself back when his wife was alive. Of course, that was before the sheriff had died and Jack was just a horse trader from the city who moved out here for a plot of nice land and fresh air. He’d wanted to be removed from the drama of the small town of Hyperion.

Jack was standing on the porch. Despite having lived here for over a decade, it still wasn’t finished. He was using an old tree stump as the front step because he was just too old and didn’t have time to finish building this fucking porch.

He was watching the sun rise across the desert. Jack wasn’t one to sleep much. The nights were blissfully cool against the heat of the day, but the sunrise was one of Jack’s small pleasures.

The front door creaked open, and Jack turned his head. “Good-mornin' Sheriff.” Rhys smiled as he handed the older man a cup of coffee. At the beginning of their little tryst, Rhys had always been careful to sneak back across town to his own small house, but he’d been spending nearly every night in the comfort of Jack’s strong arms and he just couldn’t bring himself to leave.

“Good morning sugar.” Jack smiled, taking the cup and pressing a kiss to the side of Rhys’ head.

Rhys hummed as Jack’s arms snaked around his skinny torso.

“It’s really beautiful out here.”

“You say that every time you’re here.” Jack chuckled, nosing into the young man’s hairline. “When do you have to go in?”

“Noon. But I should try and get back early, we don’t need Vaughn asking questions.” Rhys mumbled as he looked out across the mountains.

“No, we wouldn’t want that,” Jack smirked, turning Rhys around so Jack could kiss him, tasting coffee on his pretty lips. Damn the boy could make coffee as well as he could mix a drink, which was to say, pretty damn well.

Rhys was the one to pull away first, opening his pretty doe eyes to look at Jack. “Is this ever going to work?”

“Is what going to work?” Jack arched an eyebrow at him.

“Us… I mean. It’s not like we can get married. We can’t even tell anyone about us.” Rhys seemed to shrink under Jack’s gaze, looking away.

“Hey, where is this coming from? We have fun don’t we?” Jack picked Rhys’ chin up.

“Of course we do… but what if somebody found out…” Rhys chewed on his bottom lip. It was a little jarring to see the confident and smug bartender looking so self-conscious.

“Relax, sweet pea.” Jack smiled, dipping his head to press kisses to Rhys’ neck. “I promise not to let anything happen to you.”

 

**~~~~**

 

Jack loved this town, he loved the desert, but goddamn. If it were just the evenings and the morning it would be a lot more bearable.

There was a blackbird on the old church steeple.

It cawed at Jack in warning and tracked his path as he walked across the dusty street.

“Evenin’ sheriff.” a young woman, leaning against the side of the bar smirked at him, taking a long drag off her cigarette. Her fiery red hair reflected the light of the setting sun, making it seem like her hair was actually aflame.

“I’m not sure your father would approve of you smoking, Ms. Lilith. You best put that out before anyone sees ya.” Jack said cooly. He didn’t have time for either of the Tassiters. In some ways, Lilith was even more of a pain in the ass than her father, Harold.

The Tassiters owned the silver mines that were scattered all around the territory. They were more interested in money than anything else. More times than Jack would care to remember, he’d been called to the Tassiter’s manor to ‘deal’ with a problem that was little more than a disgruntled employee that had been wronged or injured in the mines.

“Well, you’ve already seen me sheriff, so I guess the jig is up.” Lilith smiled and dropped her cigarette, stamping it out beneath her shoe. She sidled up to the sheriff, gripping him by the gunbelt and pulling him into her personal space.

“You won’t tell on me? Right, sheriff?” She grinned. Jack put a hand on her shoulder and pushed her away.

“Smokin’ ain’t against the law. But you best be getting home before your father sends out another search party.” Jack said with a touch of disdain, Lilith Tassiter was no southern belle. She had a bit of the devil in her, but no one would ever say a cross word against her because her daddy was the richest man in the whole territory.

“Walk me home?” She flirted. Jack tried really hard to suppress his disgust.

“Sorry miss. I’ve got other duties to attend to.” Jack tipped his hat at her and headed into the saloon.

 

**~~~~**

 

Rhys had always hated this town. He’d often fantasized about burning it to the ground and being rid of it, but now…

Now that it was on fire… all he could do was watch in horror.  

 _Everything_ was on fire. People were screaming in a massive mob as they marched towards the center of town.

It had been a normal night, August was nursing a hangover and Jack had come bustling through the doors of the saloon with a smirk, strutting up to the bar as usual.

It couldn’t have been more than an hour, the night was cool and quiet. Rhys was finishing up his shift, ready t take off with jack when a warm breeze blew right through the doors of the saloon and following it was the Deputy, Nisha Kadam.

“Jack, we have a problem.” She had uttered and turned on her spurred heel leaving the saloon in a cloud of dust. Jack had given Rhys a look and disappeared.

That might have been the last time Rhys ever saw Jack Lawrence because the moment he left the saloon he was usurped by the throng of angry people, all of them screaming of sin and righteous fury.

That’s when they lit the saloon on fire. Moxxi was in Concordia on business and so Rhys was the only one there. He dove through the back window as the liquor shelf exploded.

When he came to, all he could hear was screaming.

The mob had knocked Nisha out cold, she was lying in the dust not too far from the busted shell of the saloon, but Rhys’ one good eye could only focus on one thing.

“Repent! Repent for your sins! You’re a sinner.” The crowd was chanting as the town burned around them.  Jack was bound, an expensive shoe pinned him to the dirt as a glowing brand approached his face.

Rhys saw a tall dark form standing over Jack. In all of the screaming Rhys could barely make out the words the figure was saying.

“Mr. Tassiter has a message for you, _John_. You’re a sinner. You’re not fit to be sheriff of this town. You live in a house of lies, your badge cannot shield you from the wrath of God. Your rapture is here.” And then with a simple twitch of an arm, the brand got a little too close for comfort.

“Now everyone will know of your sin.”

“Jack!” Rhys shouted and Jacks’ beautiful blue and green eyes locked with his…. then he was screaming.

Everything happened so fast. Rhys watched the brand lower into Jack’s face right as the back room caught fire, creating an excellent explosion that made much of the mob scatter and reducing the saloon to a smoking husk.

Rhys dragged himself over to Nisha’s unconscious form. Rhys’ arm was busted but still working well enough to hold a gun so he gripped the barrel of her Henry rifle with bloody hands and stood. The flames were to his back. He must have cast a terrifying silhouette because he heard gasps in the crowd.

“Get away from him!” Rhys screamed and fired the Henry into the crowd.

Rhys raised his pistol and fired blindly into the crowd. Over and over again until he was out of bullets.

The center of town was now empty, Rhys was standing there with a smoking pistol clasped in his bloody hand. Nisha was coming too and Jack was motionless on the ground.

Rhys walked over to him, crumbling to his knees at the sight of the beautiful man he fell in love with. Rhys managed to drag Jack into his lap. He didn’t even have the strength to cry. All he could do was hold Jack and pray to anyone that was listening not to let the man be taken from him.

He stayed like that until dawn. That was when Athena - Jack’s other deputy - came to collect him.

“Rhys, you need to go home.” She said as the sun spilled lavender light across the desert. “I can take him now.”

“He’s not dead. He’s still alive.” Rhys said, a little numbly.

“I’m taking him to a doctor in Opportunity. He’s the only one that can help. You need to go home and rest.” She repeated gently, easing Jack out of Rhys’ arms. “You best get inside before anyone sees you.”  

Rhys nodded, standing on legs that had gone to sleep hours ago, the Henry was still in his lap so he picked it up and began the long walk back to his own little house, the heavy rifle clutched in his hands.

**~~~~**

Jack was gone for three weeks.

In those three weeks, much of the town had been rebuilt, with the exception of the saloon which was damaged beyond repair, luckily the employees had been able to retrieve enough supply from the cellar to reopen a saloon in the abandoned schoolhouse.

Jack’s massive steed rode into town on a clear Sunday morning. It was nearing dawn and the desert sky was red. Jack rode into town before it was even awake and reveled for a moment in the quiet. He rode up to the jailhouse and tied his mount before marching right in like he’d never been gone.

“Good morning ladies,” Jack grinned. Nisha and Athena were there. Athena was sitting behind Jack’s desk while Nisha was napping on the cot in the little jail cell with her hat over her eyes.

“Damn, welcome back to the land of the living,” Nisha smirked, tipping up her hat. “We thought you were a goner.”

“I'm not as pretty as I used to be, but I’m still kicking.” Jack grinned. He stayed in the office until the sun was low in the sky, just catching up on work and getting reacquainted with his office. As the sun turned into a deep orange orb hovering just above the mountains, Jack stood, putting on his duster and sweeping out of the office.

“Where are you going, old man?” Nisha smirked.

“I'm going to visit my favorite bartender.” He said with a smirk of his own as he put on his hat and headed out into the dusk. “Maybe I’ll gamble a little. After all, I am a sinner.” He grinned, throwing her a wink.

Jack decided that it would be an easier time if he walked the short distance to the old schoolhouse instead of saddling Helios.

When he walked into the bar no one paid him much mind and he walked up to the bar. Janey Springs was behind it and he leaned up against the bar.

“What’ll it be, sheriff?” She asked in her strange accent.

“Whiskey, neat.” He sat down on the stool. “Where’s Rhys? He wasn’t hurt in the fire was he?”

“Nah, he’s out back having a smoke. Should me back in a minute.” She slid the whiskey into his waiting hand.

“Leave the bottle, darlin’. In the meantime, I’ll see if I can scare myself up a card game.”  Jack grinned.

Rhys came back in a few minutes later but when he appeared to let Janey go home for the night, Jack was already deep in a card game. He was gambling with some cowboys that were passing through on the drive to Montana. Jack made eyes at Rhys all night and Rhys kept careful eyes on the sheriff.  

Things were going well until one of the hands lost a round bad, likely losing his entire wages for the drive and had a bit too much to drink.

“You’re cheating!” He exclaimed standing up and knocking his chair backward. Almost as if he hadn’t moved, Jack was on his feet and the cowboy’s head hit the table so hard it knocked a glass off the table. There was the click of a rifle and Jack had his pistol drawn. He looked up, right into the barrel of his own Henry. The one he had loaned to Nisha a few years back, clutched in the hands of Rhys.

“You gonna shoot me with my own gun, sweet pea?” Jack smiled, looking into the soft brown eye of the young man, it was cold, locked on him with the ferocity of one of the bandits he had hunted down in his rangering days.

“You gonna start fights in my bar, lawman?” Rhys quipped back.

“Your bar? What happened to Moxxi?” Jack laughed, trying to make light of the situation even though he was still holding the cowboy against the table, his broken nose spilling blood all over the rough wood.

“She went off to Concordia after the old one burned down.” Rhys narrowed his eye at Jack. “Why don’t we take this outside, sheriff? I’ll not have gunfights in my bar.”

“Lower your rifle, and we can have a civilized conversation.”

“You first.”

Rhys was shoved roughly up against the back wall of the old schoolhouse, Jacks thick fingers curling into his hair as he kissed the young man.

“Jack…” Rhys whined, pulling away from the kiss so that could get a good look at the mans face.

The brand crossed his face in an inverted V arching across his face, it crossed over one of his eyes. The green one turning it an eerie milky white. It was deep and the skin around the scar was angry and puckered.

“Your eye…” Rhys said, his eyebrows quirking upwards.

“I’m only half blind… but I'm still a good shot.” Jack said turning his

“You’re not the only one in this town,” Rhys said lifting his eyepatch, exposing the pale blue of his own blind eye. “At least you’re not a cripple,” Rhys said with a sadness in his eyes.

Jack leaned in to give Rhys another kiss when his shoulder was grabbed and he was pulled away. The gun was pulled from his holster before he could even grab it and he heard the click of the hammer as he looked right into the face of Harold Tassiter.

“Do I really have to brand you again to keep you from your vices.” Tassiter spat, of course, he was flanked by some of his lackeys, they were the ones holding Jack.

Jack looked over his shoulder to see Rhys holding his large pistol pointing it in the face of Tassiter.

“Why don’t you take your ‘wrath of God’ back to church, Tassiter.” Rhys spat.

“Hold your tongue, harlet,” Tassiter growled at Rhys which made Jack snarl back at him.

“I’m not the one with a whore for a daughter,” Rhys responded with a smirk on his lips.

“You little brat-” Tassiter reached out as if to backhand Rhys and Jack caught his hand.

“Why don’t we take this conversation somewhere else?” Jack said. The group of them moving down the street into Tassiter’s office.

Rhys still held the heavy gun in his hands, he regretted leaving his Henry in the saloon. Especially as the big double doors shut, sealing him and Jack in the office with Tassiter, Lilith, and the lackeys.

“Well, well, well if it isn't the lovebirds,” Lilith smirked, taking a long drag of her cigarette.

“Mm, Lilith. I see hell has treated you well. You look fresh as a daisy.” Jack snarked.

He had no doubt in his mind that the reason of all of this grief was caused by the pair of Tassiters. If there was unrest in this territory it was because of them. And now Tassiter had decided to take the law into his own hands.

That wouldn’t stand. Not while Jack was still the sheriff.

“Fuck you, Lawrence.” She spat, forgetting the presence of her father and swearing.

“Lilith!” Tassiter scolded. “John-”

“Jack.” The sheriff corrected. Jack had worked for Tassiter once as a boy when he was fresh-faced and uncorrupted by the harsh desert. Jack hadn’t gotten on Tassiters good side, especially when he left the position of the top hand to go and be the sheriff. Now he was the law around here and apparently ‘sinning up a storm’.

Jack had resented Tassiter long before the man had branded his face with the mark of a heathen. If Jack’s health had been good enough he would have ridden off the same hour that the sawbones patched him up and he would have killed Tassiter where he stood.

In the time it took him to heal, he had cooled down some. Though not enough to quell the fire of rage that once again flared up at the proximity of his enemy, standing right there in the room with him.

All of his careful planning was about to go out the window, and he couldn’t say he was against the idea either.

“There is no need for firearms. Now if you would tell your harlet to put down the weapon-”

“I should kill you where you stand,” Rhys growled through his teeth. “You ain’t the law. And money doesn't make you a saint either.”

“Rhysie, give me the gun,” Jack said, the use of the pet name gave Rhys a shock and it was enough of a distraction for Jack to take the gun and slip it back into his own holster.

“He’s right. You aren’t the law. I am.”

“See that’s the thing.” Tassiter smiled a greasy businessman smile that made Jack feel uneasy. “I’m not so sure anyone trusts you to be the law anymore. After your… habits have been revealed.” Tassiter cast a cold glance at Rhys. “Things do not have to result in a fight, just surrender your badge and leave Pandora. You can even take your little harle- ... the friend with you. Then we will leave you in peace.”

“No no see, peace stopped being an option when you burned down half the town and put a cattle brand into my damn face.” Jack grit his teeth. “It’s your turn to leave town, Tassiter. Lord knows you’ve squeezed this territory dry of every cent its got.”

“Why you insolent little brat! I should have killed you when you were a boy.” Tassiter growled clicking his fingers, but no hands touched Jack and Rhys yelped. Jack turned around to see Rhys held fast in the burly arms of one of Tassiter’s lackeys.

Jack met eyes with the cool grey eyes of the bearded man holding Rhys and turned back to Tassiter.

“You should have learned a long time ago not to underestimate me, Harry,” Jack smirked, resting his gun back in its holster. Jack clicked his own fingers and suddenly half of the lackeys in the room, including Rhys and Wilhelm were all armed and had their guns drawn on Tassiter and Lilith. The sound of glass breaking made Lilith jump away from the window and where the ruined windows once were now stood Nisha and Athena. Rifles drawn too.

Tassiter was outnumbered.

“See, it would have been different if you killed me, kiddo. But you decided to send a message. Now I’m going to send one back.” Jack drew his own pistol, slowly cocking it and aiming it right at Tassiter.

“Get out of town. The only people who might help you, are here in this room. So I suggest you round up your horses and get your bony ass back to the city where you belong.” Jack grinned and let a lazy chuckle escape his throat.

“This town isn’t big enough for the both of us.”

Tassiter looked like he had just sucked a lemon and when he opened his mouth to respond a shot fired, landing in the wall mere inches from Tassiters head making the man flinch rather pathetically.

“I suggest you listen to the sheriff. Unless you want to leave this town in a pine box.” Rhys said, a tiny smile pulling at his lips. His gun was smoking and Tassiter locked his eyes on the two of them, hatred burning in them.

“You won’t get away with this, John.” Tassiter spat, grabbing Lilith by the arm and towing here towards the door.

“We’ll see about that.” Jack said, “You better hurry, Or you’ll miss the night train to Denver.”

And with that Tassiter left, taking Lilith and his remaining loyal lackeys with him. But no one really relaxed until they watched Tassiter’s wagon turn into a little black speck against the rising sun.

They were standing on the porch of the Jailhouse. Nisha and Athena had gone home and it was just Rhys and Jack standing there.

What they had been through together. Rhys would never have thought that one drunken night above the saloon could have led him to this. To experience such heartbreak and such joy at the hands of one man.

Jack slung his arm over Rhys’ shoulder as dawn broke slowly over the desert.

“It’s a pretty sunrise.” He said blandly. The thought that Jack could be so casual after the night they had made him burst out into a fit of laughter.

“Yep. Prettiest I’ve seen.” Rhys smiled, looking over at Jack. 

And Jack tilted Rhys’ chin up and kissed him just as the sun rose over Pandora, Wyoming.


End file.
